


Never Say That I Got Left Behind

by spacetimerift



Series: Firestorm 2020~ [5]
Category: The Lobby
Genre: Firestorm Week 2020, Other, inspired by Portrait of a Lady on Fire, this is for day 6 shhhh I'm running behind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27594280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacetimerift/pseuds/spacetimerift
Summary: anyway Gerard's prettyboy nobility and Judas goes "hm. nice" and they elope(title from Granite Years by Oysterband)
Relationships: Judas/Gerard | Gee (The Lobby)
Series: Firestorm 2020~ [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009629
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Never Say That I Got Left Behind

Gerard’s limbs all ache from the strain of sitting without breaking position. Every time his leg so much as twitches, the artist shoots a look at him, cutting off their staring competition. “Stop fidgeting.” And to his surprise, the words settle across him with a gentle assertion and his body behaves for several minutes. Gerard’s cutting tongue and unwillingness to obey anyone or anything are well enough known in local circles that his mother had needed to contact a foreign painter to get somebody willing. So Judas had come along with their paints, canvases, and shockingly good looks. Instead of trying to sucker themself into Gerard’s good graces, like most of the people he met, they’d taken one look at him, smirked, leaned in close, and whispered “No wonder they’re trying to marry you off. I know I’d take a piece of that.”  
  
“Gerard!” The sharpness with which Judas snaps his name propels the young man back into his body, sat rigidly on a decorative couch. Startled, he moves his head to look at them, gold eyes wide. “I said we’re done for the day,” says Judas, packing up their materials, “but I don’t think it got into that pretty head of yours.” Gerard laughs, pleased that he hadn’t done anything to offend the artist. “Be careful, love,” he warns Judas as he stands up to stretch out his legs, “Mother could hear you, and you know just how willing she is to marry me off to the first wealthy girl that sends a letter.” The painter stalks over to him with a predatory grin and sets a possessive hand on Gerard’s hip. “We both know that’s not gonna happen.” A knock on the door startles them apart just in time for Gerard’s mother to sweep in and find nothing amiss. She makes her way across to the canvas, sparing Judas a superficial smile. Examining the painting so far, she nods in approval before sweeping back out with a slight wave.  
  
Gerard exhales sharply, realizing he’d been holding his breath, fully expecting for everything to crumble around him. Judas is beside him before he can do anything else, running a soothing hand through his hair. “You can make it,” they whisper, looking directly into his eyes, “ _we_ can make it.” Gerard nods shakily, wrapping his arms around Judas and blinking back tears. “We’ll make it,” says Judas, breathing in Gerard’s cologne and soaking up his heat.  
~~~  
Judas has left, their portrait of Gerard carefully packaged and shipped overseas alongside them. The emptiness of his family home begins to suffocate Gerard, every moment of silence reminding him of bright, cropped hair and sparkling eyes. He withdraws even further from society than he already was, takes meals in his room, avoids his mother at all costs. He sits, he paces, and he writes letter after letter that can never be sent. “Dear Judas, I’ve missed you.” “Judas, my love, where have you gone?” "My darling Juda-“  
  
A knock comes at his door, sharp, clear, and tantalizingly familiar. Gerard stands, running a hand through already-tousled hair. He cannot dare to hope that Judas could return for him, the cost is too high. Is he to be married? Is she already here? His heart leaps into his throat, hammering away on his fragile confidence. The knock comes again. “I don’t have all day, prettyboy!” Judas calls through the door. Gerard sprints to open his door and trips on his own feet twice before he can make it there.  
  
Standing on the other side is the bastard he’s come to love more than anything, to yearn for so much he nearly forgot to eat. And they’re smiling, that stupid cocky smirk he’s always wanted to kiss off their face. They hold out a hand. “Come on, gorgeous,” they say, “I said I play for keeps.”


End file.
